Mets-fans relationship on the rocks despite win

NEW YORK -- They handed out giant foam index fingers at Shea Stadium yesterday, presenting Mets fans with an alternative to the finger they've been waving here all month.

Then they won the game, which was even better.

On balance, this was a good day for the tattered relationship between the Mets and their fans. But because it was played in the cauldron of coiled anger and hatred that Shea has become, it had its ups and downs.

Most of them centered on Carlos Delgado. They booed when his name was announced as a member of the starting lineup. They cheered after his first home run. They asked for a curtain call after his second, and he refused. Some of them booed then, but most seemed to understand.

There's a lot of work to do here. The Mets and their fans are going to spend this season in couples counseling, and both sides are going to have to do their part. The team can help by grinding out workmanlike wins like the ones they got the past two days -- against the Braves, with clutch hits, solid defense and good late-inning relief work. The fans could help by occasionally letting the team know, with the odd "Let's Go Mets" chant or even an unrequited demand for a curtain call, that they still do want to see them do well.

In order for it to work, both sides have to want it to work. And days like yesterday can help.

"I appreciate that the fans offered, and that they understand that he's going out there fighting," David Wright said of the Delgado curtain-call situation. "But this is a what-have-you-done-for-me-lately town. He hit a couple of home runs, and he's back in their good graces."

For now.

If Delgado pops up to the third baseman or rolls over into the shift tonight with the bases loaded, the boos are sure to start again. He knows it, understands it as part of the game and actually isn't that bothered by it. He said his refusal to go out for the curtain call had nothing to do with his feelings about the fans, but rather his belief that the moment wasn't grand enough to deserve one.

"We appreciate the support of the fans, but we're here to play a game," Delgado said. "They pay me to go out and hit the ball and drive in runs. That being said, I'm not going to lie. It's a lot better than the boos."

So yes, these guys do notice the booing, and they don't love it. Many of them find it perplexing. After all, these fans are supposedly showing up to cheer for this team -- to urge it on to victory. The idea that they would turn instantly, angrily negative at the first hiccup is a strange one.

"I think for some people, it's a joke -- their way of saying, 'I was here at the game and I affected it in some way,'" closer Billy Wagner said. "I understand it's their team, they pay their money to watch us, and when we don't play well, they're frustrated. But to some extent, it's overdone."

To some extent, certainly. Booing the home team at Shea has become the chic thing to do. You show up, Delgado makes an out, Aaron Heilman gives up a home run, you boo. You don't even think about whether it makes sense.

But to shrug the whole thing off as the behavior of irrational fans is foolish. This is still the same basic team that blew a layup for the pennant in the 2006 NLCS. The same basic team that coughed up a seven-game lead with 17 to play last September. Mets fans have reason to feel as if they've been wronged. Their wounds are real, and fresh, and when things happen (Delgado slump, Reyes slump, Heilman gopher balls¤...¤) to remind them of what caused those wounds, they lash out.

"We all have our critics, and you're not going to quiet them," Wagner said. "Any time something goes wrong, they're going to magnify it. But that's the nature of the game. You'd like to get some support. You'd like to have somebody say, 'He's going to turn it around. He's got 434 career home runs.' But that's not the way it goes, and we understand that."

The way out of this, for the Mets, is to win. They must win the way they won in 2006 -- consistently and impressively over a long enough stretch that the fans begin once again to look on them as a good team, a championship-caliber team. They have the opportunity to do this, with the pitching staffs of the Braves and Phillies facing far more problems than theirs, but they must seize it. Slowly, surely, the Mets are capable of repairing this relationship. And if they put in the necessary work on their end, they're likely to find the fans far more willing to lighten up.

It's all about rebuilding trust. There was trust here once, and love, and all kinds of good feeling, and there can be again -- as soon as this summer or fall.